Band-Aids Are Life's Quick Fix For Things
by RubyFiamma
Summary: [8059] [TYL] [Prompt Fic for Binni] Gokudera comes home to find an uninvited visitor crashed on his sofa.


**Pairing** - 8059, Yamamoto Takeshi / Gokudera Hayato

**Rating** - R18

**Warning** - This fic is unbeta'd, a little angsty

**Summary** - For the prompt : "_yes but has anyone actually written the 'gokudera comes home to his apartment to find a dirty/bloody/hurt yamamoto on his couch/bed/floor/w/e' prompt" from **fuwabinni** [binni] on Tumblr_

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><p><strong>Band-Aids Are Life's Quick Fix For Things<strong>

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><p>Yamamoto has never been a clumsy guy. He's got quick reflexes and sharp skills, he's nimble and agile and if Gokudera's being nice enough, he's even got some finesse to him. He <em>almost <em>admires the way Yamamoto is so good at being a hitman, so good at being a baseball player and so _fucking good _at being a lover.

What conflicts Gokudera the most about him is that he refuses to kill his targets. It's not like he hasn't before, Yamamoto _is _mafiosi, but it's only when one of them has had their lives on the line and Yamamoto had to make that decision. Gokudera can see the glint in his eye dull just a little more with each kill.

And that's the part that frustrates him. Yamamoto is good at killing, he's almost _graceful_ but Gokudera can't stand the look it puts in his eyes; distant and cold and indifferent. Flat and lackluster. He hates that look and he knows that a piece of Yamamoto dies every time along with each one of his kills.

He knows Yamamoto tries to avoid it, and Gokudera tries to avoid it too; if he can. If they're in battle together, Gokudera would rather soil his own hands rather than taint the idiot's. But Gokudera can't always be there and if he's being honest (in which case, if you ask him, he will deny _everything_) he gets nervous when Yamamoto has to leave on a solo mission or when the Tenth and Reborn hand him the black envelopes. He's nervous that Yamamoto will make a bad decision and _not _kill the enemy and it will result in something Gokudera would rather not think about.

Unfortunately today, of all days, it _was _something he had been thinking about because Yamamoto had been gone on this simple negotiations mission with a few of his team members and hadn't returned home. That was three days ago. He was only travelling an hour outside of the city and should have been back at the base at least two days ago.

The Tenth can't seem to reach him, nor the Shougohara group he's gone to meet with. It's not supposed to be messy, but considering it's yakuza and the Tenth is asking that they refrain from moving their business into Vongola territory, then it could get a little ugly. He can't stop the fear that's curled it's way up his spine in icy tendrils nor the dread that weighs heavy in the pit of his stomach. Something went wrong and he knows it. He can _feel _it.

Gokudera has been wearing floorboards thin with his steady pacing in the Tenth's office, Reborn has been out with the Rain division's team and the Tenth has been on the phone all afternoon. Finally, exasperated and all options exhausted, the Tenth tells Gokudera to just go home and that they'd call him right away if there's any news.

Gokudera doesn't feel comfortable leaving the office, but an order is an order, so he complies.

The drive home is nerve wracking because Gokudera contemplates the entire time on going to search for the idiot himself but then he'd be undermining the Tenth but then it's _Takeshi_and fuck, who knows what could have happened and what if he runs in to trouble himself but then fuck it, if he does because he's the fucking Storm Guardian and anyone stupid enough to mess with him today of all days would surely fucking regret it and... before he knew it, he was pulling into the parking lot of his apartment. He solemnly yet angrily enters the building, not really paying any attention to his surroundings. He can't stop thinking and for once he wished his head was as empty as Yamamoto's.

He absently fumbles for his keys and struggles to fit the key in the lock but eventually manages to get the door open and he takes a step inside. The first thing he notices is there's a pungent stench of blood and dirt and sweat hanging in the air. The second thing he notices is that there's a large something-in-the-form-of-a-man slumped over in the center of his leather sofa.

He holds on to the door and squints through the dim light, debating on whether he should run or blow the fucker-that's-broken-into-his-house-and-is-playing-fucking-Goldilocks-with-his-furniture to pieces. He doesn't have time to think for very long because the figure turns its head wearily and now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness, he can see the wide and toothy grin of a fucking _idiot._

"Goku...dera," the figure breathes tiredly.

Gokudera's heart and stomach both plummet to his cheap parquet floor and he lets go of the door. It slams shut, the echo resounding off his empty walls and rings through the apartment. His jaw drops slack in surprise and his heart is back to thudding hard against his chest.

"Yamamoto...? _Yamamoto!_"

He takes a step forward and he doesn't know if he should cry or scream because he's relieved and elated but he's also fucking _pissed _that Yamamoto's just sitting here on his couch like nothing has happened. But - he's a man and men don't cry (at least not in front of other people, let alone this moron) so he decides on the latter.

"Takeshi, you fucking idiot! Where the hell have you been? The entire Vongola family has been out looking for you! The Tenth is worried-"

Yamamoto shifts on the sofa and hisses and Gokudera's stomach churns. He hurriedly flicks on a light. Yamamoto's arm flies up to shield his eyes from the intrusive glare and Gokudera's eyes widen at the sight in front of him.

"Yamamoto..." A worried and surprised gasp escapes Gokudera's lips involuntarily. He can see that Yamamoto's face is streaked with blood and dirt and that the crisp white shirt he had been wearing when he left is now dirtied and brown, dried stiff with congealed blood and stained with sweat. His hair is disheveled and his clothes are torn and he looks like he's been through _hell. _He can't tell if Yamamoto is injured, but he assumes so judging by the hiss and the slow movement of the Rain Guardian.

His feet take him over to the sofa a little too quickly but fuck it, he doesn't even care. He falls to his knees down in front of Yamamoto and grabs the shirt from his chest where it seems to have been glued to his skin by dried blood. He growls and grips the shirt with a tight, white knuckled grip. He's so fucking _glad _the bastard isn't dead, he has no idea how he'd be able to handle that. He squeezes the shirt tighter and bites back the bile and bitter tears that threaten to fall.

"Keh! You... You stupid _idiot__._"

"S-sorry... for worrying you," Yamamoto mutters, dropping his arms to his sides and looking down at Gokudera.

He glances up at Yamamoto's face and his eyes are blown wide again when he notices a deep and ragged gash on the bottom of his chin. Gokudera's hand automatically reaches for the laceration that clearly hasn't been tended to. The skin is ripped to shreds here, like someone took a serrated knife and sawed at Yamamoto's flesh. Yamamoto smiles a little and Gokudera frowns. He _scowls _at the way the skin pulls in that movement.

"You idiot!" he growls acidly. "What the hell happened to you? And why didn't you call any of us? The Tenth has been worried sick you know! I should kill you myself for putting that kind of stress on the family!"

Yamamoto smiles but it's worn and half-assed. "I'm really... sorry. We... we barely made it out of there and... some of us didn't make it at all. I... I couldn't kill them, Gokudera. I just couldn't. It's my fault - everything is my fault."

Gokudera silently fumes because he knows _what _he wants to say but can't say, because Yamamoto doesn't need a guilt trip. Yes it _is _his fault for being too goddamned _soft_ but Gokudera can't really hold that against him. His innocence is one of the things he loves most about Yamamoto and despite being angry at him, Gokudera is happy to have him home and safe. He does love Yamamoto, even if he never admits it. So rather than reprimanding him more, he works on unbuttoning Yamamoto's shirt and letting a slew of muttered expletives tumble off of his lips.

"Where are you injured?" he finally asks. "And how bad?"

"I'm... I'm not. This isn't my blood."

"Then whose?"

Yamamoto's eyes shift and Gokudera can read sorrow wallowing in the depths of hazel. "M-my team-m-mates."

"Idiot," Gokudera growls, pulling Yamamoto's shirt off his shoulders. He elicits another hiss and a whimper from Yamamoto and Gokudera glowers at him. "Idiot, idiot, _idiota_." He can see fresh black and purple bruises spreading through Yamamoto's flesh like a plague and his stomach churns. He may hate Yamamoto at times but he's not so cold and aloof that seeing Yamamoto hurt doesn't affect him. He thoroughly inspects Yamamoto's body, his hands moving gingerly across his hardened chest and over the ribs of abdominal muscle and Yamamoto inhales deeply, his eyes sliding shut and his head falling back on the edge of the sofa. There's nothing erotic about it, he's sincerely concerned about the stupid moron and completely relieved when he doesn't find any other wound other than the one on his chin.

Gokudera cups his face and runs his thumb over the cut, his brows knitting together and his mouth working into a tight and thin pressed line. Yamamoto's eyes follow him and he doesn't speak, just watches Gokudera.

"Does it hurt?"

Yamamoto cracks a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Nah, it's nothing. J-just put a band-aid or two on it and it'll be f-fine."

"Are you a moron? How many times did you hit your head, hm? That's going to scar, you know. It's pretty deep and a fucking band-aid isn't going to fix it, stupid."

"Haha, s'ok... A scar would make me look cool, wouldn't it?"

Gokudera presses his finger into the cut just slightly and Yamamoto pulls back with a hiss. "Nothing could ever make you look cool, baseball freak. I'll go get the first aid kit and you can clean yourself up."

He nods with a smile and Gokudera rises, sauntering into the bathroom and mumbling under his breath. He pulls the first-aid kit out of the medicine cabinet and remembers the Tenth. He should definitely call him and ease his mind a little. He walks back out into the living room and throws the first-aid kit on the sofa beside Yamamoto and calls the Tenth. He explains how the moron ended up in his apartment of all places and that he's fine but they'll need to discuss what happened with the Shougohara group. The Tenth tells him to just take care of Yamamoto tonight and that they'll regroup in the morning. He's also going to direct the teams to the place where Yamamoto had his run in and collect the bodies of the fallen men.

Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he looks at Yamamoto quizzically, who hasn't touched the kit yet. "Why _did_ you come to my house?"

Yamamoto looks up at him and smiles sheepishly. "B-because you were all I was t-thinking about the whole time. I just wanted to see you."

Gokudera can feel his face flush heatedly with the confession and he scowls to try and hide it. "Still... You should have called the Tenth."

"I know... But can you blame me for wanting to just be here with you?"

Knowing how Yamamoto is feeling right now, no, Gokudera _can't _blame him. But it isn't going to stop him from trying. "What the hell happened out there?"

Yamamoto sighs and reaches out for Gokudera's hand. He lets Yamamoto grasp it and he allows himself to be pulled towards the sofa. "Can we not talk about that now, please?"

When Gokudera is standing in front of him, Yamamoto wraps his arms around Gokudera's waist and nuzzles into his abdomen. He lets out a shaky breath followed by, "I missed you _so _much. I thought... I thought while all this was happening, when I looked around and all I could see were my fallen comrades, that I wasn't getting out of there alive. That I wasn't coming home to _you__. _And yet... I couldn't bring myself to kill anyone. I should have, you know? I could have saved more lives. I'm not going to make that mis-"

"Yamamoto," Gokudera interjects, carding a hand through his sweat soaked and blood-matted hair. He opens his mouth and closes it again and Yamamoto looks up expectantly but Gokudera says nothing more, for the fear of revealing too much of the raw emotion he feels gnawing at his heart. He wants to say _don't change, you don't need to change who you are because you're perfect. Your innocence is like the Tenth's and that's what we need to change the future of this world. _But he doesn't say it. He _can't _say it. _  
><em>

Instead he slides his hand down Yamamoto's cheek and holds it there, running his thumb over the crusted blood that's dried around the deep gouge in Yamamoto's cheek. His face and chest have a lot of minor nicks and scratches, bruises and he's lucky there isn't anything broken or that he wasn't shot. Gokudera wonders for a short moment how many of Yamamoto's team threw themselves in front of a sword or bullet to protect their Rain Guardian and all that does is make him feel bitter. Bitter and sad that Yamamoto has to remember these things too and that this world is too ugly for someone as pure as him.

He drops his hand and sighs, picking up the kit and prying it open. Yamamoto watches him in silence as he takes out a few cotton swabs and antiseptic solution. Gokudera pours it over a swab and dabbles it much too gently over the cut. Yamamoto pulls away with a hiss and a wince and it makes Gokudera smirk just a bit.

"Thought you said it didn't hurt, baseball freak."

"Well when you touch it with that," Yamamoto whines with a frown.

"You need stitches."

"Then stitch it up for me."

"Do I look like a doctor, you asshole?"

"Well, I'm not leaving. So either stitch it up or put a band-aid or something on it. I just wanna sleep next to you." Yamamoto leans into Gokudera's stomach once more, leaving stains of red and brown all over his white dress shirt.

"Heh, stupid. You can't just put a band-aid on life's problems and expect everything to be okay," Gokudera says snidely, pulling a strand of Yamamoto's hair.

"You can be my band-aid, Hayato... Because when I'm with you - no matter what, I feel like everything's going to be okay."

"Che. Sap."

"But you love me anyways."

"You wish. Don't get cocky."

"So cruel."

And just like that, Gokudera helps Yamamoto back from that ledge again, the one he teeters on between keeping his untainted and unmarked soul and becoming a cold-hearted killer, a beast with all the finesse and grace of a feline in battle. What he was truly meant to be, _a natural born hitman._ If it's left up to Gokudera, he will shield Yamamoto from the life _he_ had to experience when he was meant to be young and green and innocent.

Smiling ever so slightly despite himself, he patches Yamamoto up with a swatch of gauze fitted over his chin and lets his fingers linger on Yamamoto's golden skin. Yamamoto remains quiet from his place on the couch, his arms wrapped loosely around Gokudera's waist and his eyes glide up to meet the bomber's.

Yamamoto makes Gokudera's heart race and his chest swell and he fills him with a warmth he's never found with anyone else. Not even being a part of a family finally gave him such a feeling of completion; of fulfillment. He's satisfied with feeling this way for Yamamoto and he's more willing to accept it now that he's older. He knows the mafia isn't made for fairy tales and rainbows and pretty sunsets; it's a dark and dreary place where everything can change in an instance and there is no such thing as a quick fix. But here in this black and abysmal place, he's found his own sun; his own quick fix and he'll never let him go. Not for anyone or anything.

Gokudera sighs contently and slowly slides a thumb across Yamamoto's bloodied and cracked mouth. He leans in when Yamamoto smiles and tastes that ray of sunshine off of his lips when what he should be tasting is metal and copper, savours it on the tip of his tongue when he slides it in to Yamamoto's mouth. Gokudera straddles his lap and presses his body into Yamamoto's, feeling heat coil up in the pit of his stomach, feeling his head spin and his heart drum like a hummingbird's wings against his sternum. He can smell the blood and sweat and dirt on his skin and in his hair and though it should repulse him, it kind of turns him on. It's a unique musk that is Yamamoto's alone and Gokudera will relish in the high it gives him, especially when Yamamoto grips his hips hard in desperation, pulls at his lips with his teeth and grinds his ass down on his already straining cock.

It's all a blur of blinding lust when his shirt is torn off his shoulders and Yamamoto's hands find purchase in his silvery locks, his mouth and teeth work across his heated flesh. Gokudera can feel the gauze chafe against his skin and there's a stab of anger and regret he feels when he's reminded that just a few hours ago he was fearing the worst, that Yamamoto was lying cold and dead somewhere and he'd be left alone to hate the world again.

But instead he's here, his calloused hands slide over Gokudera's back carefully but just as needy, like he wants to memorize every sharp curve and angle of muscle and bone in his body but can't bear the anticipation of just gentle touches and chaste kisses.

Before Gokudera knows it, he's drowning in a sea of lechery, with Yamamoto's cock buried deep inside him while he rides the Rain Guardian hard and steady, letting loose and crying out to the ceiling. He repeats Yamamoto's name over and over because it makes him feel like its real, that Yamamoto is _real _and right here. Today his life was spared but Gokudera fucks him like he'll be gone tomorrow and in this kind of life, he could be. Yamamoto knows the same thing, because he isn't as stupid as Gokudera says he is and he too, fucks Gokudera with a desolate hunger; driving deeper and deeper into Gokudera so that he sees nothing but bright stars and flashing white light. Yamamoto growls and snarls, he is a _feral __beast _in the sac, just like he is on the battlefield and though Gokudera doesn't like to see that persona then; he craves to see it now. It makes him come hard, makes his entire body shudder with adrenaline and then release; that sheer euphoric release that leaves him boneless and nothing but a hot mess. And it's then that Yamamoto comes, because just as Gokudera likes seeing the animal come out of him, Yamamoto quite enjoys seeing Gokudera debauched and flushed and wanton; covered in come and breathless. It's two extreme sides of their spectrums; people they pretend not to be when no one is looking. Band-aids to cover up the real truths.

When they've caught their breath, they move to the shower and from there to bed, where Gokudera does a proper job at bandaging Yamamoto and before long, Yamamoto sleeps. While he listens to the soft drone of Yamamoto's snores, Gokudera silently prays to whatever gods who'll listen to continue to spare Yamamoto's life and keep his soul from being marked. He already knows where he's headed when he leaves this world but Yamamoto deserves so much better.

Glaring at the bandage on Yamamoto's chin, Gokudera's eyes begin to feel heavy so he moves towards Yamamoto just a little closer. Not that its really possible, since Yamamoto holds him possessively like _he's _afraid of loosing Gokudera. But he lines his body against Yamamoto's and drapes a leg over the taller man's legs. He can't help thinking as he falls asleep, that Yamamoto will probably look pretty damn rugged and sexy with a scar on his chin.

Of course, Gokudera would rather die a dozen torturous deaths first before ever admitting _that _truth.


End file.
